can you feel that (it's love)
by StateOfGeorgia
Summary: "But my love for you is pure, like oxygen gas and sodium chloride," Kuroo sings (horribly, but at least still in tune). A snort. "What kind of songwriting is that?" "The good kind, obviously." or a series of one/two shots about cheesy songs, band dorks in love, and Sawamura Daichi's eternal suffering


Sawamura Daichi is a calm, understanding man.

He'd like to think that out of all his friends, who, really, still had the minds of four year olds, he is by far the most logical and reasonable. True, he could lose his cool, like any normal human being, but that was to be expected. In his years as a volleyball player (and captain for one), he wasn't a perfectionist, and was always compassionate, _helpful_ even, when his team mates made mistakes. Hell, he made a lot of them too. He is patient, and he definitely does _not_ encourage nor approve of violent fits of anger. In fact, the level-headed drummer is so emotionally stable, a lifeless cave in the middle of nowhere would be jealous. Daichi is so _cool_ , ice is a distant relative.

But, on certain days like this one, it's important for him to remember that murder means jail time.

"Kuroo-kun~ How _did_ you manage to get such a simple recipe all toxic and bubbly like that?"

"You're the one who wanted me to cook dinner, jerk! It's like this because of you!"

"Where's Akaashi, can somebody find Akaashi? He'd know what to do!"

"No, Bokuto, stop! Dude, why the fu- _stop pouring salt in_!"

On these days, he has to remind himself that he is a _calm, understanding man_.

"Oikawa? The hell is going on?"

"Iwa-chan! Kuroo was just making dinner!"

"Guys, holy shit, it's going freaking to explode-!"

Their monster creation splutters. Blue flames erupt from the goopy black substance. 

"Hey, hey, HEY! It's on fire now, how cool!"

In the corner, clenching his hands so hard they're almost white, Daichi mutters, "I am a calm and understanding man. I am a calm and understanding man. _I am a calm and understanding man_. I am a calm and understanding _nonviolent_ man."

"Kenma! Hey, put the game down and help me with this, would you?

"…."

"Kenma! Game. Down."

"Kuroo, I don't think it's supposed to thicken that much." Their 'dinner' is bubbling haphazardly out of Kuroo's cooking pot, tentacle-like and nearly spilling over the counter. "Also, you need a fire extinguisher," Kenma, the smartass, adds. The flames decorating the messy goop of _something_ shoot up another few inches. Daichi, still mostly unnoticed by the rest of the group, twitches. He whispers, "…calm…..understanding…" like a mantra.

"Maybe so, but nothing can extinguish the flames of _our love_ , right, pudding cat?"

Everyone freezes. One by one, they walk up to Kuroo, pat him on the back, and then tell him different variations of "that line was shit." Kuroo pouts.

Kenma rolls his eyes, disinterestedly (Daichi wonders if he has any other facial emotions), and says, "Stop making that face, you look weird." Kuroo pouts some more.

The concoction makes a deep gurgling sound, interrupting them. Oikawa screams and smacks the pot with a wooden spoon, looking even more ridiculous than usual with the (admittedly fashionable) white and pink Hello Kitty apron he's sporting. Meanwhile, Bokuto, who's running around the kitchen hooting of all things, seems distressed.

"AKAAAAASHI! Where's Akaashi?!" 

"He went to visit family, you idiot. How the hell did you forget?"

The Pot of Death (he can't keep finding more synonyms for 'substance', all right?) bubbles even more menacingly. If Daichi thought this was a children's cartoon and food was capable of communication, the Pot of Death would seem to be threatening. Around the kitchen, spilled bags of flour, bottles of chili sauce, and two banana skins litter the floor. Iwaizumi, muttering something about "not in my job description", is trying to desperately put the fire out with water, Oikawa dangling off one of his buff arms. Bokuto, their odd keyboardist, attempts to rectify the problem by adding more and more oregano. At various points, he tries to call out for Akaashi again, only to frown sadly when he realizes Akaashi is gone until tomorrow. Next to him, Kuroo is leaning against the kitchen counter flirting unashamedly with Kenma (who, as usual, doesn't care), the blond careful not to get dragged into the mess. Daichi, at this point, is praying for blessings of patience from literally every divine figure he knows. One of the maintenance men walks in, eyes immediately widening at the sight before him; he makes eye contact with Daichi, gives him a look of supreme pity, and then quickly power walks back out, slamming the door shut.

The former volleyball captain sighs, almost sardonically. Oh well. He tried hard, really, a battle well fought, but Sawamura Daichi can be a calm and understanding man _another goddamn time_.

He's carefully picks himself off the ratty old chair in the corner.

"Kuroo! Do you think my arm will get stuck if I stick it in? Like, if I oil my arm all greasy, could I get it back out?"

If they weren't such huge pains in his ass, Daichi thinks, he'd applaud them for their creativity.

"Bokuto, that… is the best idea you've had all night. Do it."

There really isn't a chance to turn back now. Daichi hates to do this, but it's for their own good. They've got to learn that their actions have consequences; really, he hated being the bad guy, but they needed to control themselves or else they'd never make it in the real world. Slowly, with every ounce of his will, he tries to smile as he approaches the counter. Might as well make them feel comfortable before he kills them (lightly chastises, is what he means).

"DUDE, I know, right?! Aren't I awesome?!"

"Bokuto-kun, you silly little peanut, why the fu- _Oh my God_."

Oikawa is the first to notice Daichi, and then one by one all three members of the Idiot Club meet his eyes. Apparently, they see the burning flames of hell raging in his irises, because they hurriedly attempt to hide the overflowing pot with a few damp paper towels (which burn and crumble to ash three seconds later). Kenma, being the smart kid he is, nonchalantly scoots out of the room as Daichi stalks carefully into the kitchen like a lion going in for the kill.

A group of grown-ass men (minus Iwaizumi, whom Daichi has graciously chosen to spare, since the man has suffered as much as Daichi has) frantically scrambles behind the counter. In their haste, Kuroo manages to topple a bottle of vinegar onto the already messy floor. They all watch him with unobstructed fear in their eyes. Even the pot of who-knows-what ( _tuna casserole and squid soup with yucca dressing?_ ) silences and hesitates for a moment before it starts bubbling once more.

At some point, he becomes aware of Kenma returning to the kitchen and handing Iwaizumi a bag of popcorn.

"Daichi, man, bro, dude, my brother from another mother, my homie from another wombie- _It was Oikawa's idea_!"

"Quit blaming me for your inadequacy and take it like a team player, you noodle!"

"Hey, hey, HEY, Daichi~ your aura is very dark! So scary!"

He is so _beyond_ caring.

" _What_ were you _thinking_?"

Daichi slams his hands down on the table. A loud _smack_ resounds from the marble. He grumbles darkly, in a voice that sends a chill through their hearts, "If _any_ of you want to _live_ to see your next concert-!"

The monster creation, having lost its spotlight and apparently angry, explodes, and everything goes to hell.

After hours of hard work (read: Daichi passively reading an interesting golf catalogue as Bokuto, Kuroo, and Oikawa scrub the kitchen with used old toothbrushes; in the corner, Kenma records their suffering), the kitchen is once again semi-clean.

"Wow," Iwaizumi says to him, handing Daichi a wet towel," nice dad skills."

He takes it, aggressively scrubbing his face, where there's _still_ hints of the disgusting remains of the Pot of Death. "Shut up."

"I don't know, _go to your rooms_ seems like a pretty good punishment, if you ask me. My old man used that one all the time. At least you made them clean up their mess beforehand."

"Shut _up_ , Iwaizumi."

"You know, the fans have you tagged as #bestdad2k16, right?"

Iwaizumi has to dodge a projectile in the form of a carrot.

"Okay, first of all, _chill_. You're super stressed lately, which I get." He pointedly raises his eyebrows near his hairline. "I have to make sure nobody dies on these damn tours." Daichi understands that; he's incredibly grateful for the other black-haired man. They're essentially partners in babysitting, making sure the other doesn't snap and kill anybody, specifically a member of the Idiot Trio, backstage (where there are witnesses, at least). But Daichi admits that Iwaizumi, as one of their best bodyguards, has kept them all safe from crazed fans and rabid, hyperactive reporters. Out of everyone he's stuck with on a near-to-daily, it's probably Iwaizumi who's most capable of not setting the entire building complex on fire.

"But," Daichi groans, because he feels another 'you-need-to-relax" lecture coming on, "you know what, Sawamura?"

"What?" he asks knowingly.

"You need to relax." Boom, there it is.

"I am relaxed, the hell are you on about?" It's a weak attempt, and Daichi knows he's lying. He knows Iwaizumi knows he's lying. He knows Iwaizumi knows _he_ knows he's lying. But, how could he _not_ be stressed? It didn't matter if he ran on only thirteen cups of cheap, shitty coffee per day, there were songs to write and albums to finish. He didn't need _that_ much sleep, there were interviews to set up for and limited editions CDs to sign and fans who wanted autographs on the street. There just wasn't time for relaxation, he had to coordinate with Kiyoko and keep track of the rest of the band and had to double check all of the finances along with Ukai. He _had_ to be there for the team, at least give them the best shot at the chance they've been given. Daichi doesn't mind, of course not. It was a lot harder back then when they didn't have a manager and had to set up venue contracts and publicize all by themselves. He could relax once all the tour details were finalized and he's waving goodnight to the last audience. He could relax once they're all packed into the bus and driving home to Miyagi after the tour's done and finished.

"Look, the managers are taking care of all the rest of the details. We have another two weeks before we have to hit the road. Nothing's stopping you from, you know, _sleeping_. Or, God forbid, enjoying yourself like a normal twenty-something year old. You need to look for someone to settle down with. You should, you know, go out more."

"What are you, my mother? I don't need someone to settle down with, Iwaizumi, I'm not some lonely hermit."

Iwaizumi ignores him. "You should go visit this coffee shop near the studio. Oikawa knows the owner's son apparently, and the place's actually pretty cool. Classy. Would probably give you a nice break from that cheap coffee brand you keep drinking."

Daichi sputters. What kind of person recommends some random coffee shop for stress relief? They were loud and noisy, and the coffee was usually either tar in a cup or overpriced warm water. Fans would flock to him asking for autographs often and in hordes, even though their band wasn't even that well known in Miyagi. More often than not, he would be stuck signing personal items and foreheads for over an hour, leaving his own, precious coffee cup untouched.

"No. Besides, I don't have time."

" _Make_ time."

"I can't just _make time_ , I'm busy!"

"Doing what, reading Star Wars fanfiction? There's literally nothing else for you to do, Kiyoko and Ukai are already wrapping everything up. You need a break!" He takes a long sip of his tea. "And, there's always the fact that I know about the infamous _grapefruit incident in Tokyo._ " Daichi twitches. " _Pictures_ too, you know. Could probably sell them online, get some money out of it."

"Why do you want me to go so much?" Daichi growls, aggravated. That night in Tokyo was still a sore subject for him, maybe because it was literally the worst and most embarrassing few hours of Daichi's life. It's a spoken rule to _never_ speak of the event. He pulls a bottle of water out of the fridge, grumbling.

"Honestly?" Iwaizumi smirks at him, "I bet Yaku I could get your coffee shop hating butt to fall in love with Suga's Coffee and Sugar. It's literally the best place in town, not too many people, pretty quiet. Personally, I bet Suga's is more than enough to turn even grumpy old hermits like you into regulars." Daichi snorts. Iwaizumi, unperturbed, continues, "Yaku disagrees, thinks some people wouldn't trust all the employees that much, because they all look like punks apparently."

"I'm not going just so you can win a stupid bet." He narrows his eyes at the man sitting opposite him, grumbling, "And betting isn't a good lifestyle choice, Iwaizumi, it could easily turn into an addiction. So could blackmail, by the way."

"Sawamura-kun~," Iwaizumi has been spending far too much time with Oikawa, "do you really want to risk the grapefruit incident getting out? Just go, just once. And we do care about you, by the way. Yaku thinks if I can get you to go, it'll be really good for your stress levels." The former ace smiles up at him sweetly, as though that'll make Daichi want to punch his face any less (it doesn't).

Daichi growls, aggressively chugging back a mouthful of water. He swears to himself that he is _not_ going, no matter how much Yaku or Iwaizumi nags him to. He has _work_ to do, for God's sake.

The next morning, he's locked out of the studio in the freezing snow with nothing but a map showing directions to Suga's and the smiley-face sticker taping it to the door.

Damn it.


End file.
